Darkness, Light
by Immortal Blade
Summary: Darkness falls upon two men: One praised by the gods, the other praised by those who serve said gods. Two children must restore light to the darkness. Reviews appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm back. Enjoy the better version of Tainted Black.**

* * *

 **Twenty years ago.**

The Smith of the Gods  
forges a blade:  
a Sword of Power  
a Sword he has made.

A mask to hide,  
a mask to protect.  
A mask immortal,  
a mask unwrecked.

Unparalleled in skill,  
others cannot compare.  
They neither try,  
nor do they dare.

Not one nor two,  
but o'er a thousand swords made.  
O'er a thousand armors,  
he alone has made.

* * *

*CLANG*

The sound of steel crashing on steel rang out throughout the small workshop. Inside, a masked man swung away at a chunk of heated metal, forming it into a long, narrow slab with a sharp point on one end.

*CLANG*

Another strike fell, widening the slab just a bit, and elongating it more. Soon, the slab began to look like a sword.

*CLANG*

Yet another strike fell upon the slab, before the man carried it to a vat full of blood red liquid, then quenched the hot metal partly, pointed end first.

* * *

He hadn't the time to make a proper, two handed sword, so he had instead made an estoc, edgeless but sharply pointed. It would be enough for most, although for this particular customer, it would be debatable. Pulling out the blade, he carried it over to his tungsten anvil, where he laid the blade down, ready to work the remaining, unquenched part into the guard and hilt. Finishing the sword shouldn't take too long, and he could start on the other commissions.

* * *

Now, the man could easily finish a sword in a day, but the customers had been piling up orders relentlessly, asking for various weapons like breastplates, swords, gauntlets, spears, greaves, daggers, helmets, each with their own, unique, customization. Different adventurers had different preferences. One wanted a heavy sword to go with their high strength stat, while another wanted light armor to defend them without slowing them down. He didn't mind. Why would he? People came with money, asked for his works, then paid him to make said works. The cost was rather high, and came with the vow of only using it to hunt monsters, and to protect that which they held dear.

He finished the sword, placing on a rack, before starting another one.

* * *

 **Ten years ago.**

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Once a man revered by even the gods of the forge for his smithing skills, now a monster on trial before them.

"He's a threat." One god had said.

Hephaestus glared at said god. "Just _how_ is he a threat?"

The speaker nervously looked at the others, then back at her. "We know little about him, his crafts are inhumanly well crafted, and several rumors are going around that he uses blood to quench his weapons and armors."

The masked man said nothing, and the god glared at him. "Well? Are these rumors true?"

He nodded. He couldn't deny it, nor would he ever. It was his style of craft. Nothing would change that.

"See, Hephaestus! Your smith uses blood to quench his creations. Where could he get that much from, hmm? Surely, you cannot continue allowing a murderer to receive your Grace."

Hephaestus scowled. "Are you claiming my adventurer is a murderer? What proof do you have of that?"

"Where else could he get that much blood?"

In truth, a friend of his owned a potions shop. The owner gave him a lot of healing potions to assist with the blood loss, and the masked man naturally healed very quickly. It wasn't too much of a problem for him to smelt and craft as he did. But these gods did not know that.

The uproar among the other gods truly irritated him, but he said nothing. No amount of explanations could make them understand. After all, he was far past his prime: distrusted by the gods, distrusted by the adventurers of Orario. The masked man had nothing left for him.

His goddess was enraged by their fears. "He only uses his blood for quenching. He has never murdered anyone, and the Guild would have arrested him if he did."

Another goddess shook her head. Loki, he remembered. "The dungeon is a dangerous place. Who knows, maybe anyone died in there because of his cursed wares, but their own actions may have played a part as well."

That was enough. He slammed his gauntlets down, surprising most of the other gods. "I have never taken a life for my own benefit. My wares are bathed in my own blood to give them my blessing, to strengthen them. Any who have died wearing my armor fought to their end and beyond even that, driven to strive for nothing less than their absolute best. They swore that upon taking up a weapon I had made for them, that they would use it for its intended purpose, to hunt monsters. They swore that upon donning the armor I had made for them, that they would use it to defend that which they held dear."

There was a flaw in the oath, and one god made it clear to the rest. "And if someone were to claim that other adventurers were 'monsters', and their own benefit that which they held dear? What then?"

He had planned for this. "To make weapons is to make the tools meant to take the lives of others. I have accepted that fate. To make armor is to make a full defense for whoever wears it, good or evil. I have accepted that fate. There is nothing I have done wrong. They swore upon the oath I had asked them to make, and they had taken up my wares as their own. Even if they swore to use the tools I gave them for the benefit of Orario, they could still murder one another in the name of that oath. I cannot change the hearts of others."

He sat back down, his face hidden behind his mask. His goddess smiled at him, then glowered at the others. "See? He has done nothing wrong. If you condemn him, you will have to condemn my entire familia as well."

She was defending him, but the masked man knew what could easily happen then.

And it did. "Very well. Those found guilty of making illegal wares will be permanently banned as a smith following a twenty-four hour period, in which their god or goddess will remove their Grace from the offender. Those found innocent will be free to continue as they wish. All in favor of this?"

All but three hands among the gods rose. "All who oppose?"

The first to remain opposed was of course his goddess. The second, was surprisingly, Loki. The third was a god the masked man hadn't seen before, a large man of powerful stature.

"The majority has decided in favor of accepting this law. We will begin searching in five minutes. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

The inquisition had lasted less than ten minutes. Of course, he was the only one found guilty, on the basis of his wares being 'necromantic' in their creation, and thus, illegal. But not a single other person had been found guilty of making illegal wares.

Not one.

Hephaestus had tried to delay the Grace removal for as long as she could, but it was inevitable. With tears in her eyes, she cried every single second of the removal period. It must have hurt her as much as it did him, but he refused to cry out. He would be strong for her, for their familia. Not anymore. It was her familia. He was no longer a part of it. He couldn't be.

The other gods watched him with suspicion as he gathered his tools, when a small blonde girl ran into his shop. "Are you really leaving?"

The girl couldn't be any older than seven, with straight blonde hair and cerulean eyes. He pitied her, since the girl couldn't get on in life without being strong, and with strong friends. He glanced up, and saw Loki standing outside the door. She stared back at him. "Hey, I'm sorry it had to end this way. If you want, you could be an adventurer in my familia. I could give you my Grace. The other gods would allow you to receive a different god's blessing."

He shook his head. The gods had burned his back where a god's Grace would be. He could never receive Grace from a god or goddess again without them seeing that burn. No, he had become a Fallen. But even Loki's sympathy helped, even a little. He knelt down in front of the little girl. "Yes, little one. I am leaving. I may come back, I may not. So do not wait for me."

The little girl teared up, but no tears fell. She was a strong one. "No. You will come back. I know it. You've made the best wares around, and you'll do it again. So you have to come back!"

She shook a little, and the masked man rested a gauntlet on her head. "Then I will come back after all. You want something from me, correct? What is it?"

His purpose was to help people, in his case through crafting both powerful weapons and armors for their use. He knew as much. Others didn't see him as a person, they saw a resource to help them get what they wanted. A cynical look, but it was the truth. It was why he hid his face, so others didn't have to see and feel guilty for using him.

The little girl swallowed. "I want... I want to go fight in the dungeon alongside you. You can be an adventurer in my familia. You're strong enough, right?"

What. What was this? A child wanted him to fight in the dungeon along side her. She wanted _him_ to help her in a way that was entirely new to him. He dealt with people, but with them it was superficially. With her, it would be something more. She wanted him to be a part of her familia, part of her family.

He could not. Not with the burn on his back, not with his failure still there, not when others distrusted him, not when they labelled him as a monster.

She looked down, slightly embarrassed. "I want you to take off your mask, and get along with the other gods as well."

She wanted something more than a selfish wish. It was amusing, that a child would want something not a single other person, even gods, would want from him. She didn't want _something_ from him. She wanted something from _him_. It didn't matter if he was a monster, she would never call him such a thing. No, to her, he was a person, someone who was in need of a friend to console them, to comfort them.

She wanted be that friend, the masked man realized. But he had to leave. He grabbed a sword off of the wall, one he had a fondness for.

 _Desperate_ , the Sword of Conquering Despair, he had called it. A straight, double-edged blade, a simple black hilt, and a straight crossbar, he had engraved a shattered white shield into the hilt to emphasize the sword's power. Indestructible as it always would be, it would never dull, break, tarnish, or show any signs of wear, under almost any circumstances. It had a hidden power locked deep away in it, like almost every sword he made. This was his second best sword, one forged from his very soul and blood, and the second one he had enchanted. It was too personal to give away, so he had kept it on display, with a 'not for sale' sign underneath, to convince buyers that his wares were as good in function as they were in aesthetics. He sheathed the blade, and held it out to the girl.

She was surprised when he did so, gently taking the sword. "Is this for me?"

He nodded, smiling beneath his mask. This was not something he would normally do. But this girl had potential to become something better. "This, is _Desperate_. Take it, use it well. This sword will never break or dull. Do you swear to use it to hunt monsters, and to use it to reach that which is what you wish to achieve in life, that you could not reach on your own?"

She paused, then nodded, resting the sword on her hip. "I do."

He nodded, then stood up. "Loki. Take care of her. She's one of yours."

There was no questioning the steel in the young girl's eyes. She wanted to both protect something, and be so strong she would never have to be protected. She was naive, but he could sense unparalleled strength in her heart. She would refuse to let others stand in her way, and she would always stand in front of them. _Always_.

He walked past Loki, turning back only to speak a few words of encouragement to the girl.

"I will see you again, Sword Princess."

* * *

 **Five years ago.**

The masked man stared at the boy in front of him. No older than eleven, the albino glared at his opponent. Yes, the albino. The boy had snow white hair, pale skin, and piercing red eyes. He was fighting against a wild goblin, a rather rare appearance outside the dungeon, and so very far away from Orario, too. But the boy wasn't doing too well, his knife breaking as the goblin attacked once more. If this kept up, the boy would fall, and die.

A voice rumbled next to him. "Well? Aren't you going to help him? He'll die, you know."

The masked man turned to see the man from five years ago, one of the three gods who had opposed his banishment. "What about you? You're a god, after all."

The god shrugged. "And you're a wandering supporter. What will you do?"

The masked man glared at him from under his mask, then charged the goblin. Said goblin lasted an instant longer as the masked man grabbed its head with his gauntlet, and crushed it, blood spurting from the neck as it tried to regenerate. All monsters outside the dungeon seemed to have some level of regeneration, most likely a mutation resulting from living on the surface for so long alone, with no backup from other monsters.

But the masked man wouldn't have any of that, slamming his hand into the center of the goblin's body, then tearing out the magic stone that allowed its existence. Without it, the body of the monster quickly withered and dissolved into smoke and ashes, which scattered to an unfelt wind. He pocketed the stone, then turned to the boy. "Not bad. If your knife hadn't broken, you might have killed it."

The boy nodded, obviously depressed about the outcome. He looked at the god, tears in his eyes. "Grandfather, I failed."

The god shook his head. "Bell, don't worry. The masked man helped you out because it's what he does. He helps people."

The masked man fought the urge to sigh. This god thought him to be a supporter, but that didn't mean he helped people. It was actually the opposite. He had killed thousands, the one who donned his armors and used his weapons but did nothing to help him, when he left with his blessing. Only once did he spare a life, the girl he had met five years ago. That was the one blessing he did not take. _Desperate_ was not a sword to betray him. Instead, that girl would be the last to take up any of his wares. "Do you truly believe that?"

He knelt in front of the boy. "I did it because I was selfish. A child can see that. But, my question to you is this: Do you have what it takes to commit yourself to the happiness of another?"

It was a difficult question. Many would say yes, commit themselves to proving themselves right, and him wrong. They would fail in the end, struck down by their own selfishness.

The boy looked at the masked man's gauntlets, then at his mask. "I don't. Not as I am, at least."

The masked man chuckled. "Then, what is it you seek to obtain this?"

Many would say power. But this boy was not many. He was weak in body, but strong in his determination to prove himself. "A strong knife. One that won't break. That's all I ask for."

He was surprised, though less than he expected. This boy did not know how harsh life was, how quick another would be to betray him. He would try to go on in life as his own, yet prove himself to those who challenged his strength. This boy was still a child, but one who knew that the world would not forgive him for relying on another. Would he survive in such a harsh world? The masked man did not know. However, the boy asked of him a knife.

The masked man crossed his arms. "Child. Do you expect to get by with only a knife? Where will you get the strength to wield it, the experience to overcome the enemies that will stand before you, the resolve to defend that which you hold dear, when you ask only for a simple knife?"

The boy tightened his grip on the broken hilt of the knife he held, his body tense. He looked down for a moment. Then he looked up, and the masked man saw the strength in the boy's eyes, something he hadn't seen since the girl he saw the day he left, but this boy was even younger than her!

"Masked man. I ask of you a knife, nothing more. It is my choice to take up the role of an adventurer, and I will _never_ question if that choice was the right one for me. I will rise to face and overcome the challenges and enemies that try to overwhelm me. I will learn from those challenges and enemies, adapt to the upcoming ones. I hold the resolve of my decision already, masked man. So give me a knife, one that won't break. That is all I need."

The masked man chuckled once more. This child was ready for the dungeon. Perhaps even for the world. "Child. You do indeed hold resolve. For that, I thank you. While you are naive, you see the world as it was meant to be. You will receive your wish in due time. Keep your resolve strong, and the blade you wield will be just as strong."

The masked man pulled a long knife out of his black cloak. The blade, black in color, held an ethereal look to it, with the runes empowering it a dark red. He handed the blade to the boy.

The boy took it, accepting of the consequences that could arise.

The masked man turned to leave, speaking a final time before doing so. "Child. You will face impossible odds, and enemies far, far greater than you can ever be. But as long as you hold your resolve, feel no fear, your blade shall never break. Go forth, to the dungeon of the gods. Prove yourself worthy of the title of 'Adventurer'. We will meet again, Record Holder."

* * *

 **A/N: I'd also like a beta reader for this story, so I can make said story a bit decent than the original.  
Reviews are appreciated, as are PM's for other things.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, a few reviews would be nice *cough cough*  
Anyway, here's the next chapter! It's a bit short, but still.**

* * *

 **Ten years ago.**

Blaec Carver, born a dark elf in a hellish woodland filled with dangerous monsters, raised an adventurer, roamed the dungeon in Orario. His twin ethereally white swords slashed at any monster foolish enough to try to attack him head on, while also swatting arrows and other projectiles that other monsters launched at him.

This man was a powerful adventurer, as well as one who had carved his own Grace into his back, fought hard to obtain the strength he now held, and proved himself time after time, earning the respect of his fellow adventurers.

He had strived for greatness as a child, eventually earning enough money to buy high tier quality equipment from the local smith. He was a strange one, the smith, as he always wore a mask to cover his face. He also charged buyers in magic stones, not Vallis. Blaec had once talked to the guild about him, but nothing came up other than his Familia: Hephaestus. The man was not an adventurer, and he never traded in magic stones to the guild. So, what did the masked man use the stones for? A few men, foolish adventurers of course, broke into his workshop to find out.

They were never heard from again.

...

Blaec paused, feeling a tension in the air. What was happening?

A scream of fear, and the shattering of metal filled the dark elf's ears. He sprinted forward, then turned a corner, slashing a Spartoi that dared block his path. Blaec kept running, his boots pounding against against the dungeon floor. He had to find out what was happening.

He reached the source of the scream, a girl, though while strong, was writhing on the ground, with several of the undead soldiers stabbing her.

Blaec would not allow that to continue.

He hurled a sword forward, impaling one of the monsters, before grabbing a second one by the head, then used it to knock the others away.

He knelt beside the girl, pulling out a roll of white bandages. "What happened?"

The girl looked around in fear. Blaec rolled his violet eyes, then snapped his fingers, drawing the girl's attention to himself. "What happened to you?"

The girl grabbed his coat, violently shaking. "It's gone."

Blaec froze. Impossible. It couldn't happen.

Of course it couldn't happen. The girl was just confused. He deeply sighed, regaining his composure. Then he began bandaging the girl. "What's gone?"

The girl began to speak, before scrambling back and screaming, the bandages trailing about before Blaec rolled them back up. "It's gone! It's gone! It's gone!"

Blaec shook his head, hurling the other sword at the Spartoi behind him.

 _Crack._

His eyes widened as a single crack formed, running down the entire length of the blade.

 _Crack._

Another crack formed as the skeleton grabbed the sword, after which Blaec narrowed his eyes.

 _CRACK._

The blade shattered, leaving the monster unhindered. Blaec didn't have time for this. He needed to get the girl to safety!

He rolled out of the way as the skeleton speared at him, before placing his hand on the girl's shoulder. The backlash would be bad, but he didn't have the time to kill the monster _and_ heal the girl.

Blaec caught his sword as it flew back at him. The enchantment was working, at least. He sheathed the sword, then knelt down, picking up the girl. "Teleport."

Wind blew around him, as well as the girl.

In an instant, they were gone from the dungeon, just as a second Spartoi lunged at them.

* * *

The wind placed them at the dungeon's entrance, with Blaec thrown forward. He rolled, just enough to mitigate the pain after.

It didn't help.

The backlash slammed into him, throwing him back on the ground, _painfully_. Then it proceeded to spread across his body, leaving him in a very injured state. He could barely make out the pained groans of the girl.

The girl. He still needed to get the girl.

Struggling to get to his feet, he dropped the sheathed sword, but ignored it. He stumbled to the girl, shaking her shoulder. "Come on. Can you stay awake until I'm done bandaging you up?"

The girl slowly, very slowly, turned her head to face him. "I'm tired. It hurts, but I'm tired."

Blaec saw her hand rest just below her ribcage. If she had taken damage, that would be the most probable location. He rested his hand on hers. "Does it hurt here?"

The girl nodded, closing her eyes. Blaec snapped his fingers, forcing her to wake up again. "Hey, stay with me. I'm going to pull your shirt up, okay? I need to bandage you up."

The girl shook her head. "It's too late. It's gone."

Blaec scowled at her. "It's not too late. You're still alive, aren't you?"

He pulled her shirt up, then inspected the damage. A large splinter, probably from one of the Spartois's spearheads, was lodged very deep into her chest.

Far enough to pierce her heart.

…

So, that's what she meant. He sighed, then reached for the splinter. "This is going to hurt a bit. Just relax. Everything will be fine."

The girl gave a small sigh as he pulled the shard out of her chest. Blood spurted out, but Blaec quickly wrapped a bandage around the wound. The bandages would heal her, but possibly not fast enough.

The girl gave a faint groan, while Blaec merely looked at her. "Just stay alive, and you'll be fine, you hear?"

The girl's eyes were quickly becoming glossy, but Blaec squeezed her hand. "Stay with me. Just relax, and stay alive. Clear your mind of extra desires."

The girl slowly closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed. Blaec rested a hand on the bandages. "Stay alive. Heal, and remain free of strong desires."

…

…

…

He paused when the girl stopped breathing, frowning deeply. "This way wasn't enough. Please, please work."

He pointed a finger at the injury, closing his eyes. "Divine heavens and hellish ruins, this one has strayed from their desired path. Grant them their wish, their desire. Return to this one their soul, their being. Restore to them their life, that which they wish to have. Give them this second chance."

He paused, clearing his mind of anything other than the chant. "In this, I ask of you: Resurrect this lost one."

The wound instantly healed, and the girl opened her eyes. Blaec sighed in relief. "Are you alright?"

The girl looked at him. "I just wanted to live."

No. No, no, no no no no.

The girl lunged at him, stabbing at him with her knife. "I just wanted to live, more than anything. So why did you let me die, Blaec Carver?"

Blaec spun around the knife, grabbing the girl's arm. "Stop. Seriously."

He yanked her arm down, then jumped back as she pulled a _second_ knife out. Seriously, who carries multiple knives _and_ uses them for stabbing people, not throwing?

Blaec really shouldn't have thought that.

He ducked as the girl threw the second knife, then dashed at him. He twisted around her once more. "This is your last chance. If you don't stop now, things won't end well."

Her face warped into one of complete fury. "I challenge you to a duel, Blaec Carver!"

That did it.

Blaec froze, catching the girl's hand as she tried to stab him again. He held his other hand out. "I accept."

The guild couldn't condemn him for murder in a duel. Those kinds of rules lead to death matches, but Blaec didn't worry about that too much. Resurrection and all.

The sword flew to his hand, and he cleanly slashed her arm. These kinds of people were the most difficult ones to deal with, as their wish manifested in one of the most dangerous ways: night immortality.

Case in point: The wound healed quickly, though clearly not as much as the girl expected, as she turned on him, drawing a third knife. "What did you do? What kind of sword is that?"

Blaec remained silent. It wasn't a good idea to explain what all of one's equipment did to an enemy. Either way, he still had to deal with this one.

He closed his eyes, weaving through her frantic stabs, focusing on the spell he wanted to select for this purpose.

The sharp, searing pain in his back told him said spell was ready.

Blaec opened his eyes, his vision alternating between sharp and blurry as he chanted the spell in his head. A stab grazed his coat, but was deflected courtesy of the enchanted cloth.

Blaec was ready now.

He leapt back, glaring at her. "I will give you one final warning. Stop, or I _will_ kill you."

The girl didn't even pause as she charged him.

Blaec looked at her with melancholy. Such a sad loss of life.

He held out his hand, amethyst flames trailing around the white glove that covered it. "Fire bolt."

The flame rocketed away from his hand towards the girl, bursting on impact.

Her screams, like all the others, would haunt him for a long time.

He sighed, watching the burning figure flail, then collapse into a pile of ashes. Then he sighed again. So young, but with so much desire. No serenity at all.

"Hey!"

He stopped halfway towards the ashes, turning to the source of the voice.

A large group had formed during his battle, and now they glared at him with hatred in his eyes. This was probably the girl's familia.

They kept glaring at him as they stepped forward, one in front uncomfortably so. "Do you know who that was?"

Blaec looked down at the pile. " A young girl, roughly twelve years old. Her name was Adria Marinos, of the Arethusa familia. What more do you want to know? She's a part of your familia."

The speaker, a well muscled man, stalked up to him, his fists clenched. "I am Zephyr Marinos. You killed her, Carver. You killed her, brought her back, then killed her again."

Blaec stood up, brushing off his coat. "Zephyr. Not everything is in black and white. Do you think I killed her? I did everything in my power to keep her alive. My bandages can only heal so fast. I told her to stay calm, to clear her mind of strong desires. When she died, I brought her back because I didn't want her to stay dead."

He held out his hands. "See this clothing? The white parts are enchanted to assist in the healing of those who wear them. The bandages are made of the same material. I would never abandon another adventurer, whether they be a supporter, a simple blacksmith, a great hero, or otherwise. Adria died of her wounds, despite me trying my best to heal her. After she died, I gave her a second chance by bringing her back. Unfortunately, she had too strong of a desire, especially one to live. She could never have lived a normal life like that. She would have lashed out at anything close to her, regardless of their relation to her."

Zephyr gave him a vicious look. "Because of your flawed technique? I know Adria. She'd never hurt anyone close to her. She saw only the monsters as enemies to be slayed. She wouldn't lash -"

Blaec lifted him off the ground, his violet eyes full of fury. "Yes, because of my _flawed_ technique that lets me _resurrect_ people. As long as they clear their mind of strong wishes, I can bring them back from the dead _with impunity_. But if they hold a strong enough wish, a desire above all others in their mind and soul, then they will come back in a horrific way. Their wish will manifest itself, corrupting their soul to dedicate itself to fulfilling that wish. They will recognize two things: The one who made them this way, _me_ , and obstacles to be destroyed. Adria? She wanted to live. That wish granted her night immortality, and the longer she remained in this world like that, the stronger she would become. She wouldn't have recognized you as someone she cared for. She'd simply see you as a threat to her wellbeing. Then she'd _kill_ you. Is that what you want? For her to do that to you?"

Zephyr shook his head, still struggling to free himself. Blaec did not relent. "I thought so. Beings like what Adria became do not feel ties unless it is to fulfill their wish. None have ever shown compassion strong enough to best their nature. Eventually, they killed the ones dear to them, their friends, their lovers, their family. Entire parties have been wiped out because of what happened to them. Yes, Zephyr. What happened to her was due to my technique. But I took responsibility for what happened, each and every time. Each of those times I call out for them to stop. They never do. But it is up to _me_ , not up to you, or up to anyone else, to take responsibility for _my_ actions. Those are mine and mine alone."

He dropped the man, who slid back, rubbing his neck and gasping for air. After a moment had passed, he glowered at Blaec. "You're a monster. A monster who breeds other monsters. No wonder you stay in the dungeon so often. You killed my sister, turned her into one of those _things_ , then killed her again! Only a heartless monster would do that!"

Blaec glared at him. "Child. You provoke a being far more powerful than yourself. What could you possibly do to me, then? I've hunted monsters for far longer than you've even been alive. I know better than anyone how to find them, track them, kill them, and collect their drops. Why do you think your gods send children into the dungeon?"

A streak of blue flashed across his vision, snatching Zephyr up and away, then gently placing him down. Arethusa, he presumed, based on the power he felt from her. "Arethusa. You can't hide the truth from these children forever. They will ask questions that you can't simply avoid."

He lifted his hand, the sheathed blade flying to it. After, he placed the sword back on his hip, glaring at the goddess. "You _will_ tell them, lest something terrible happen to you."

With that, he left. If the goddess told her familia, it would tear their relationship apart by its very nature. If she didn't, something terrible would happen to her. It was just how the curse worked. 'A plague on your house', he heard it was called. His father had used it once on a monster to force it into working as free labor for him. Blaec was young at the time, but he understood the implications of the curse. After that, all it took was a small grimoire, and a lot of pain, but it was well worth it to be able to place a curse like that on things.

* * *

He reached the outskirts of Orario, just in time to see the masked man leaving. Why? The masked man _never_ left his workshop. Ever. Something must have happened, then. The timing was close enough for Blaec to make a simple conclusion: The masked man had left, taking his blessing with him. It would grant him immense power, taking back his blessings, but something big must have forced him to leave. What? What was the reason to make the greatest weapon and armor maker in all of Orario, no, in the entire _world_ , leave? It was no secret to Blaec how the masked man made his wares so powerful, but maybe the gods didn't know. They would have found out, been outraged due to the nature of such a thing, then banished him.

That kind of thinking brought out the monsters, and made _him_ all the more powerful.

Blaec could not allow such a thing. He turned to face the city, then stalked his way back. If the masked man could not prevent _him_ from leaving the dungeon, then Blaec would.

* * *

He reached the masked man's shop late at night, pushing the door open. It was unlocked, and the store was empty. Hephaestus would weep if she saw this.

Blaec spotted what he came here for: A simple sword, a mirror of his own, darker than the night sky that looked down upon the world now. He picked up the sword, noticing a small piece of paper wrapped around it. It read:

" _Blaec Carver. This sword is yours and yours alone. When you fall into darkness, a darker one will always be there to devour it. This sword is called Nightfall, the Sword of Black Dusk. Use it well._

 _The masked man."_

Blaec folded the letter, then pocketed it. He would use this sword with everything he had. His other sword would not break, this new one wouldn't either. They were as strong as he was, and only as much, not more. That was the enchantment the masked man had placed on both of these swords. It was a fair deal, to use this sword as best he could.

After all, it was crafted by the best weaponsmith in existence.

* * *

 **A/N: A reference to our final boss! Who is _him_ , you ask?  
Eh, you'll learn soon enough.  
** **Although I _do_ need to stop making Book of Swords references.  
** **Here's a list for anyone interested in the masked man's works. It will update every chapter.**

 **Weapons:  
Desperate, the Sword of Overcoming Despair - Belong to Aiz  
Nightfall, the Sword of Black Dusk - Belongs to Blaec**

 **Armor pieces:  
The Black Hands - the masked man's gauntlets  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, then. A short chapter, but it really focuses on, well, you'll see.**

" _A god can only be as strong as their familia. No man is an island, nor a god their own power. That is the weakness, but even more so, it is the greatest strength a god can possess. I've lived for long enough to claim that with utmost certainty. When a god and their familia truly align their wills, they become unstoppable."_

 _~Attributed to the masked man._

 **Ten years ago.**

 _Crack._

Hephaestus' grip on the wooden chair splintered the wooden arm, as she stood up, then stalked over to the man in black on the opposite side of the room. He, on the other hand, sipped his tea contently. "Hephaestus, it's been awhile."

Power flowed around her, as she began unsealing her magic, but the man held up his free hand. "I'm here to talk. Nothing more, nothing less."

Hephaestus stopped her prepared assault, instead settling for glaring at him. The man just chuckled, a deep laugh that echoed around the room. "Hephaestus, I've been around for far, far longer than you can imagine. I've seen the rise and fall of civilizations, countless people be born, then die, and more importantly, I've witnessed the birth of the gods. To me, you are an infant, angry at the fact that your toy has been taken. I know, of course, that you are also the leader of an important familia. I am proud of that fact, but I'm sure you know why he was sent away."

Hephaestus' glare deepened, boring into the man in black. He didn't even respond to it, so she just sighed, trying to be professional. "Of course. The gods declared his works to be 'necromantic', due to how they were made."

The man in black scowled. The shadows in the room undulated wildly, like a raging fire of darkness. "Yes. Now, this a time where the roads diverge. On the one side, the gods made a wrong decision, for they did not understand the child's works. Not many could, but did you, Hephaestus?"

She nodded, annoyed at his question. "Of course I understand my familia's works! By quenching the weapons and armors in his own blood, he could enchant them better, and grant his blessing onto them."

The man let out a roar of amusement this time, his tone full of mirth. "Hephaestus, you've barely scratched the surface of the masked man's power. Yes, his methods seem like that, but did you stop to wonder _why_ his wares work as they do? Granted, no one ever stops to think about that, but as an ageless being, I'd hoped that you would have taken the time to. So?"

Hephaestus bowed her head. "No, I simply assumed that his wares were enchanted and blessed to be durable, sharp, and grant exceptional protection."

The man in black sighed, clearly disappointed. "I'll tell you this, then, the reason why the masked man's armors can completely negate all attacks, why his weapons can destroy any enemy, and why his wares never dull, rust, break, or anything of that like, and the reason they don't always do that. The reason is the being who led the masked man's first 'familia', the being that taught him everything he needed to know."

Hephaestus raised an eyebrow. "Who? I know it wasn't you."

The man in black smirked. "Ah, the lady's a clever one. No, it was not me. That man would have learned but a fraction of what he knows now if he had learned under me. No, the being I'm talking transcends boundaries you didn't even knew existed, because that being _made_ them. You call yourself a smith, that being refers to themselves as a Creator. 'Dust to dust', they say, right? I've given you enough hints. The rest is up to you. Don't die, and you'll live long enough to learn who his teacher was."

He took a step back, his form slowly dissipating into the shadows around him. "The other road is the one I'm on, Hephaestus. A great power is coming, one even _I_ fear, and it's best you fight _him_ without the use of the masked man, instead with your familia armed to the teeth. You won't be the only ones involved, simply the only one told. It's best you also use your godly power when the time comes to do so. You'll need it."

With that said, he was gone.

Hephaestus sat down, holding her head in one hand. "A great power? What kind of power could that possibly be?"

She sat in silence for a while, before a knock on the door paused her musings. "Come in. The door's unlocked."

The door opened, and Hephaestus was surprised to see Loki walk in. "Loki?"

The goddess in question shrugged. "Hey. I came to check up on you. It's been a week since he left, and no one saw you even leave this room once. Are you okay?"

Hephaestus nodded, standing up. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just," She looked at the place where the man in black had been, "It's just I'm not sure if this was the best decision. But I've had some time to think about it. Don't worry, I'll be alright."

She walked over to the door, leading Loki along with her. With that, the two goddesses left together.

* * *

 _Clang!_

Hephaestus slammed the hammer down on the metal again. It had been two weeks since the masked man had left, and demands for high quality wares were rapidly rising. Even she had to start working to keep up with the load her familia was burdening. It wasn't difficult, but the sheer amount of orders kept her up and working almost constantly. She missed him, since he produced almost half the entire amount of her familia's wares.

She shook her head as she slid the newly formed sword to the next person for inventory managing. It wasn't time to reminisce. She had something far more dangerous to prepare for than worrying about her familia for a bit. _Something_ was coming, something that even the man in black feared. That left only a few choices: one of the Titans, a very old and powerful god, or something else entirely. Gods and goddesses were banned from releasing their magic when they descended. It made things too easy otherwise, but there were times when a god was allowed to make use of their magic. Those times were rare, and usually included a god being on the verge of dying.

She grabbed another piece of metal. Only males, since the man in black said _him_ , and probably one of the first generation of Titans, since he also made a point to emphasize the danger this enemy presented. Everyone would be dragged into this. Was a familia rebelling against the others? No, there were the war games for that. Perhaps a familia from outside Orario? Even then, the Guild would make an effort to negotiate. So, what was it that presented such a threat to the gods and their familia?

She handed the breastplate to the next person. Never mind the dungeon, she needed to prepare for all out war. If her familia wasn't ready, they would die, and she with them. Who would craft the wares for the familias? Certainly not Vulcan. Sure, he was exceptional in his metalworking, but he never taught his familia, instead training them in combat.

She stood up, claimed she was retiring for the night, then left. No one was going to complain since Hephaestus had worked for almost a full seven days without sleep, yet still managed to produce a large portion of the familia's total wares.

Hephaestus walked back to her room, but instead stood before the area the man in black had been when he had spoken with her. She couldn't quite say why, but she had the feeling that his presence here was important. She ran her finger along the floor, testing every centimeter of wood that he had rested on.

A chuckle startled her from her inspection. "Well, well. It seems I've come at a bad time? Either way, we need to talk."

Hephaestus spun around, seeing the man in a white and black coat, armed with two swords. She sighed. "Blaec Carver. What a surprise. What is it you need to talk about?"

He crossed his legs as he sat on the floor. "I've waited for redemption, and I've found none from the gods that condemned him. All I ask is for your loyalty when the time comes."

She raised an eyebrow. "What time?"

He sighed. "I know it seems odd, but I've talked with the masked man before. As in, actual conversation, out of my own selfish desire, yes, but still. It seems odd, but I _am_ a selfish man. I want the best for myself, even if it means taking from others. But _he_ is coming, far too soon for my likes, and I need help. If you pledge your loyalty to me for that period of time in which the war takes place, I will grant you mine until then."

Hephaestus shuddered at the way Blaec said _him_. It was the same hatred, the same fear that the man in black had used. "Who is _he_? I'm thinking it's one of the first generation Titans. I might be wrong, though."

Blaec let out a dry, sardonic laugh. "It would be easy if it was a Titan. Even every familia together would pose just a _slight_ challenge to _him_. Which is why when we all fight, I need people on my side. I'm leading the charge against _him_ , and I'm going to win. Nothing more, nothing less. I've learned as much as I can about my enemy, I've studied the various familias, and I've chosen the best to assist my quest. I've lost my best warrior, and you know why. The other gods are all hush hush about it, and a few others are on an expedition outside Orario to recruit new members. Now, answer me honestly: Why did the masked man leave?"

Hephaestus clenched her fist. "You really don't know?"

He shook his head. "I was in the dungeon for hours when I came across a girl being attacked by Spartoi. She clung to me as I tried to heal her, claiming, 'It's gone.'. You know what that means: The masked man took his blessing away from every piece of equipment he had made for others. I was lucky I had a sword that _wasn't_ made by him, because the one that was _broke_. I don't know why, and I need to know before anything bigger happens."

She leaned back on her hands. "You're really not going to like this then. The gods voted that 'those found guilty of making illegal wares will be permanently banned as a smith following a twenty-four hour period, in which their god or goddess will remove their Grace from the offender.' That's the reason he can't come back. Not because he wanted to leave, but because he _had_ to leave. He can't come back as a smith, but he doesn't fit any other roles."

Blaec shook his head. "I've talked to the person who granted him power, the second one. The masked man's far more powerful than you'd believe. Other roles? He could be _all_ the roles, and still have the strength left over to fill them again, in two different parties. He's not weak in any sense, but he cares enough about you to hide his strength, instead just helping you out. People do things out of selfish desires, Hephaestus. The masked man left because otherwise it would mean war between you and the other gods, and you would _die_ if that happened. His strongest desire is to make you happy, even if it means leaving and returning as something entirely different. Me? I resurrect people with necromancy because I don't want to deal with the consequences otherwise. My strongest desire is to have everything, be it material objects, or something else entirely. It's the reason I want to challenge _him_. It's because he stole something important from me, and I want it back."

He stood up, pointing a finger at the place where the man in black had been. "You're not wrong to search where he had been, but you're looking with your eyes. Reveal the truth behind the curtain, and you'll find that even the truth can be deceitful."

An ornate golden door, lined with various gears intricately ticking by, appeared in front of Hephaestus, making her jump back in surprise. "How? What?"

Blaec shook his head. "Even the truth can be deceitful. Tell me, where do you think this door leads to?"

Hephaestus inspected the door more closely. Now that she had calmed, the door had depictions of a man throwing a child off a mountain, an anvil with twenty bellows inside a workshop, then a tripod walking towards the same mountain from before, then a small human stealing fire from the workshop, then giving it to others. "It leads to either a mountain or a workshop."

Blaec raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. "No. This is the Door, the Door to Nowhere and Everywhere. Open it."

Hephaestus reached for the now formed handle; a silver lion holding a pithos in its mouth. The door opened, and she was astonished to see what looked like a small island. "Why are we here?"

Blaec walked through, a hand on his sword. "We've come for something very specific."

He closed the door behind him, and a workshop materialized before them. "Here."

Blaec opened the door. "After you."

Hephaestus walked inside, admiring the great metalworks that the workshop held. After all, she had made quite a few of them. Blaec walked in behind her. "This is a sacred place, the island of Lemnos, for a cult dedicated themselves to the Greek god of blacksmiths, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metals, metallurgy, fire and volcanoes. You can guess who that is."

She whirled around, bewildered. "How did you find this place? It's far away from Orario, and far away from any coast."

Blaec chuckled. "The Door knows all, the Door leads to all. I've been to places much farther than this. You wish to best _him_? You'll need weapons strong enough to slay that which slays gods. Or, perhaps you wish to defend your familia. In that case, you'll need weapons that cannot be pierced. I wish the masked man was here, but alas, he is gone. For now, Hephaestus, you need to get working. This is your sacred ground, so release your magic, summon your machinations, sorry, _machines_ , ready this world for yet another war."

With that said, Blaec vanished, a wind swirling where he had been. Hephaestus shook her head, power flowing around her. "Adventurers are so over dramatic these days."

The forge roared to life.

The bellows fed the flames.

The automata prepared the materials.

Hephaestus was ready.

It was time to forge Swords, and Armors.

 **A/N: The Swords and Armors are not to be trifled with. Equipment forged by a _god(ess)_? Especially one such as skilled as _Hephaestus_?  
** **Not to be trifled with indeed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm back! This one took a little longer to write (a lot longer), but I think the chapter is good.  
P.S. In case it wasn't obvious, _Darkness, Light_ is going to have significant plot changes compared to _Tainted Black_.**

" _They send forth mere children to challenge_ me _? They're_ gods _, what more can they ask for? Power? They possess unlimited power within their domain. An army? They can call upon the heroes of legends your kind spoke so highly of. No, they send children to their deaths, as if they were sheep. But_ my _children, beings I've brought into this world, this world, swollen with the unnecessary, my children will slaughter them all. Nothing will remain unless I command it to. So they can try their best, those gods, they can prepare their armies, their weapons, build their monuments to the so-called freedom they so wrongly believe they hold, hold fast to their familias. For when the time comes, the war between all of you, and me, this world shall be torn asunder, and I will create a new one from its remnants. I am stronger than any god, and I am stronger than even you."_

 _~Unknown_

 **Present Day**

Quiet talk filled the pub as Blaec walked in. He tried to ignore them, but a few comments still got through.

"Is that him? The demon elf?"

"I heard he uses necromancy. You think he can raise an army?"

"Did you know he can control monsters? Maybe he'll turn them against us."

"The thing about necromancers, is that they can kill your allies, then turn them against you."

Blaec disregarded their rumors as casually as he could, taking a seat as the green-haired elf walked over. Over the years, she had become the only one to serve him in the Hostess of Fertility, despite his reputation. He was a selfish man, but if the others liked to see him as the evil dark elf, then he'd fill that role for them. He smiled at Ryuu. "Just the usual, please."

She nodded, her sky blue eyes watching, waiting for any sudden movement. Blaec gave her none, but here she was after ten years, still ready for retaliation.

The doors opened, and the pub went dead silent.

A moment passed as the newcomer took a seat across from Blaec, his face covered by a hood. Ryuu stared at him, but Blaec shook his head. The elf left.

Blaec waited in silence, as did rest of the oh so _wonderful_ gossipers around him slowly went back to their meals. He barely let out a whisper. "You called me out here. What do you have to offer?"

The hooded man slid a knife across the table, then pointed to the pommel. Blaec nodded. Dead drop delivery from the masked man. "Got it. What do you need me to do?"

The hooded man shook his head, then stood.

The pub hushed once more as the man left.

Blaec shook his head, then accepted his meal. "Thanks, Ryuu."

A few of the other adventurers looked at him, but he ignored their stares for now.

* * *

He reached the shop soon enough. Twisting the pommel of the knife, he slid out a small letter.

" _The time has come."_

It was short, just four words long, but Blaec knew the deeper meaning of the message. _He_ was going to return, and while Blaec was a powerful adventurer, he couldn't defeat _him_ by himself. What he needed was an army, one to counter the strongest of monsters. He had his own, a small one, but it wouldn't be enough. He needed something stronger. He was a selfish man, and while he had left Hephaestus ten years ago on her sacred island, he had yet to hear back. The masked man was his best supplier for anything, really. Black market trades were the better of the options he had. Of course, the masked man had _always_ been his best supplier.

He held his hand out, pushing through the barrier he had set up. It was simple, really, just an Illusion spell that he had cast early on. All he had to do was cast it again when he left.

He stepped through, seeing the vast array of armors, weapons, and other various crafts that the masked man had made so long ago. He sighed, then picked up a small orb, then pocketed it. Whatever it was the masked man was doing now, Blaec was sure he could still make the strongest of weapons.

Blaec pocketed the orb, then turned, facing the three thieves, er, _adventurers_. He was having difficulty distinguishing them after all this time. "Yes?"

The adventurer on the right, a Boaz with shaggy black hair, spoke first, in a deep voice. "So, this is where you've run off to. I was hoping you wouldn't come here, but perhaps it's for the best."

Blaec raised an eyebrow, his hand twitching. "What business do you have with me?"

The adventurer on the left, an elf, answered. "We are here because you have committed grave crimes, and as such must be punished as such."

Blaec rolled his eyes, his hand slowly drifting towards his black sword. "Name your charges against me."

The one in the middle, what looked to be a human, pulled out a scroll. Ah, the god reveals himself. Because he already didn't deal with enough of them already. "The charges are: Theft -"

"They were given to me."

The god looked up at him. "Oh? Even the orb in your pocket, or the black sword at your side? Those belong to the masked man, not you."

Blaec scowled. "This house belongs to me. Thus, everything that came with it is also mine."

The god glared at him, and the Boaz reached for the axe at his waist. Blaec didn't really care. "Next charge."

The god looked down at the scroll once more. "Murder."

"No. Anyone that has died by my hand suffered when I tried to resurrect them with my magic. It works under the correct conditions, but, well, most people don't really follow my directions anyway. On the bright side, the ones who do make it go on their merry way, happy as can be. Next charge."

The god smiled sadistically. "Necromancy. Explain your way out of _that_."

Blaec grinned back. "Define necromancy."

The god glowered at Blaec, then glanced down at his scroll once more. "Necromancy: The reanimating of any corpse with ill intent."

Blaec chuckled. "Who is the one with the ill intent? Me, or the corpse?"

"Either or."

Blaec stared at the god evenly. "Then you have no grounds to arrest me on. No one I resurrect has 'ill intent', because there is no ill intent between the two of us. Their soul is restored to their body, and if they have a strong wish, they embody that wish. They hurt, suffer when their wish is there, burning at their minds, and the lash out to ease the pain. It's the consequence of their motives. Nothing more, nothing less."

The elf glanced to the Boaz. "He's lying."

In an instant, the larger man was striking down upon Blaec, who merely blocked with his gloved hand. "Me, a _liar_? Surely, you jest. I may be a selfish man,"

His back burned as he readied his spell.

"I may want the many things this world has to offer,"

The pain spiked as the spell readied itself, pulsing in eagerness.

"But I do not lie. It's the only thing I can give, but not take."

He placed his free hand on the Boaz's chest.

"Fire."

The Boaz burst into flames as he fell to the floor, writhing and screaming. Blaec just stepped over him, the next two spells already preparing themselves. "Now, you have ten seconds before my next spell, god. I'd rather not let you die, but if you continue your transgressions against me, I _will_ let it happen. And you know I don't lie. Ten."

He stood unfazed as the elf panicked. "Nine."

The god looked panickedly at Boaz, then at the elf, who had a wooden stave out. She glanced at it, then at the burning Boaz. "Eight."

"Alright! We'll leave just, don't kill him."

With a snap of his fingers, Blaec dismissed the Burn Alive spell. "Very well. It's best you don't return here."

He kicked the Boaz at the god, even though the elf caught him. As the three left, the god glared at Blaec. "Take note, you will pay for what you've done."

Baec simply nodded as the trio left the shop, watching the night sky.

A moment passed, and soon his assailants were out of earshot. "Erebus."

The shadows coalesced into a man in a black suit. "You rang?"

Blaec scowled. "Where is he?"

Erebus bowed. "Soon, Carver. Soon."

He paused a moment, then smiled. "Ah, it seems dear Hephaestus has left the wonderful city. That wasn't due to _you_ , was it?"

The tone wasn't accusatory, but Blaec grasped the underlying meaning. "Yes, that was me. _He_ is readying _his_ troops. Darkness, no pun intended, will fall upon this city, even the world, if we are not ready in turn. I sent her to make more weapons in her sacred island. _He_ can't reach her there. I can. So, where is the masked man these days? Ten years, and all I've done is keep his forge hot. Anyone can do that."

Erebus grinned, the shadows shifting around him. "Ah, you mortals are so intriguing~! As gods, we do not change, even with time; we exist as we always were. But you mortals, you change in the blink of an eye, growing stronger, more adept in each passing second. Yes, the masked man is returning, but now, he brings a being of light. Ready your guardian, Blaec Carver, for not even you can gather in the darkness of the mind."

With that, he was gone, and the shadows flickered as they did before. Blaec frowned.

...

That one would do nicely.

Now all he had to do was ask nicely.

* * *

"No."

Well, that went _so_ well. Loki somehow _glared_ at him, despite her eyes being closed. He looked down at her evenly. "This is important."

Loki didn't give in. "No."

He glanced at the blonde girl, then back at the goddess. "Why not? She was the last one known to have contact, and she has a sword made by him."

Loki frowned at his point, looked over at the girl, then back at him. "You're not wrong, but no."

Blaec crossed his arms. "What do you want for her?"

Loki actually _growled_ at him. "She's not some _thing_ I can simply trade away! No!"

The other members of her familia shifted about awkwardly, trying to avoid the heated argument. Goddess versus adventurer, would certainly bring about a war game, but when it came to Blaec Carver, he was essentially the god of the familia, and challenging him in almost _anything_ was near-suicidal. "Then I challenge you for her."

It was something Blaec was all too familiar with. He'd made challenges like this often enough, and various gods had arrogantly agreed, setting rules that would put them at a ridiculous advantage.

He'd won every single one of them.

Loki's 'glare' intensified. "... Maybe. What can you offer?"

Blaec knelt down, now eye to eye with her. "You _know_ what I can do, what I have, what I can get. Whatever it is you want, I most likely can get it."

Loki thought for a moment.

Then, she _grinned_.

Oh, boy.

"Well, since you've asked so nicely, you can offer servitude under me."

Blaec scowled. "Fine. The conditions?"

It should have been impossible, but her grin _widened_.

Such was the life of Blaec Carver.

"Well..."

* * *

The two stood at the opposite end of the arena, away from him. Blaec hadn't been in double combat in a while, but his opponents were stronger than most of the others he had fought before: The only level 7 in Ontario, Ottar. The Boaz was known for his physical strength, reflexes, and powerful fighting style. The other was Aiz Wallenstein, the Sword Princess. If Freja was allowing Loki to use her familia as a champion, _alongside_ Loki's own, who knew what would happen?

Blaec twirled his swords, the blades flashing in the light. He would have to take this very seriously. "Fire."

His hands burst into flames, which quickly wreathed themselves around the swords. Nightfall's flames blackened, while his own white one retained its normal violet color.

Ottar drew his sword, a large, single edged cleaver of sorts.

Aiz drew her own sword. Blaec knew that sword well. _Desperate_. It was one of the masked man's most prized works, second only to something even Blaec didn't know. The masked man just didn't tell him. That was alright, though.

Off to the side, Freja watched over with an... amused expression? "This man has no partner, Loki. Will he be alright against two adventurers of their caliber?"

Loki frowned. "I'm just annoyed it wasn't at least ten on one."

Freja raised an eyebrow, but was cut off as the heavy bell rung, signaling the beginning of the duel.

Aiz was the first to attack, her sword arcing as she lunged at him. "Awaken, Airiel."

Winds gusted around her, as if trying to protect their user. Blaec frowned, then parried. His white blade bit through the air, and even as Aiz rolled to the side, he still managed to draw first blood with the flaming sword. He grinned, then frowned as he glanced at Ottar, who was slowly approaching, sword in hand. What was the Boaz planning?

Blaec hurled the black sword at the boar-like man, then parried once more when Aiz tried to attack again.

Ottar moved to the side, gaining speed as his pace changed from a walk to a jog, then to a full on charge when Blaec kicked Aiz in the abdomen, or at least tried. The wind armor made it difficult.

So, that was it, huh.

"Bolt."

Ottar flew forward as Nightfall's flames slammed into his back, just as the flames on the white one burst towards Aiz. The wind armor shattered, and the swordsman was forced to retreat, or risk heavy burning.

Blaec just held his hand out as the black sword flew back into his hand. " _Fire_."

The flames burned once more, and the two adventurers backed up, visibly worried. Fire Bolt was the only spell he was allowed to use under the conditions of the match, and while it wasn't Blaec's strongest spell, it _was_ the fastest to charge up, and his abilities helped speed along the chanting process, in exchange for pain. But pain was tolerable. Losing was _not_.

He pointed the white blade at the two, making his point very clear: Surrender or die.

The two looked at each other, then at Blaec.

Die it was.

Aiz was the first to respond, charging once more, Desperate in hand. "Awaken,"

Blaec crouched, ready to counter. Pain arced across his back as he readied a new spell, but he still sidestepped in time.

"Airiel."

This time, the simple wind turned into a tempest, and Blaec could swear he saw a small spark of lightning. That wasn't Desperate's power, the sword didn't make lightning, and it wasn't the magic, either. What was it, then?

As he dodged that, he barely deflected Ottar's heavy downward strike. He couldn't block an attack like that head on, he wasn't _that_ strong. Instead, he stabbed quickly, forcing the Boaz back. He couldn't go on forever like this, though. They probably had more stamina than him.

He stabbed the black blade into the ground, then swung around it, kicking Desperate away. Blaec cringed as he felt the defensive enchantments in his boots wear down considerably, but still, it was better than nothing.

He landed, then, drawing Nightfall from the earth, swung it once more at the two. " _Bolt_!"

The black blade loosed its flames in a wave of darkness, and Blaec grinned when the white sword's flames joined in.

The resulting explosion knocked all three off of their feet, though Ottar merely slid back, while Aiz and Blaec almost flew into the arena's walls. Blaec bent his knees, feeling the boot's enchantments go to work, then sprung off, slashing with his blades.

An instant later, the winds roared to life once more, and Blaec's back burned as he prepared yet another spell. If he had to use more than these three spells, then he'd consider forfeiting. He wasn't suited to extended close range combat. Sure, he had the stamina for it, but it wasn't his prefered style.

And besides, the more spells he used, the higher the risk.

...

 _Was it worth it?_

Aiz attacked once more, lightning sparking at an alarming rate. Blaec grit his teeth, his grip on his swords tightening. "Fire."

 _Of course it was._

He hurled Nightfall at Ottar, while blocking Desperate with the white one.

Naturally, Ottar tried to dodge, but Blaec waited until the black sword was close. " _Bolt!_ "

The combination of the black flames' explosive power and its closeness to him caused the Boaz to be blasted into the wall.

No, wait. That wasn't right.

Ottar had gone _through_ the wall.

Blaec grinned as Nightfall returned to his hand. With the stronger of the two enemies out of the way, he was free to focus on the faster, weaker one.

Aiz, on the other hand, had lightning _arcing_ around her as she readied her blade. Blaec was confident, though, in his abilities. "Fire."

Once more, the flames engulfed the swords, and Blaec adjusted his stance. Aiz just stared him down. "Awaken,"

She lunged, almost invisible at the speed she was going, and Blaec barely managed to deflect the Sword. " _Fire!_ "

The flames roared as they lashed out, and Blaec was briefly reminded of a certain white-hilted sword he had been told about when he was a child; one that would blaze with fire when drawn by a worthy man. He stood his ground, the flames licking the ground near the tips.

The lightning raced down the blade of Desperate. "Airiel."

By now Blaec had a very bad feeling about what was about to happen.

As such, a bad thing happened.

A _very_ bad thing.

 _The lightning hit his swords, and then him._

Normally, that wouldn't be an issue, after all, he had enchantments that would nullify offensive magic on most of his clothes. The issue was, this wasn't exactly offensive magic.

He figured _that_ out when the lightning coursed through his system, and his body locked up.

Aiz went in for the final blow.

 _No._

He had to prepare her for _his_ arrival, to counter _his_ army.

 _He couldn't lose like this._

He wasn't some trivial pawn in this war. He was stronger than her.

 _He wouldn't lose._

With every ounce of power he had, Blaec let go of Nightfall, the Sword falling from his grasp.

It met with Aiz's Desperate, Blaec pushed himself even further. "Bolt."

He blacked out.

* * *

 **A/N: Blaec, meet physics. Airiel is a wind barrier, and when it moves fast enough, it can cause particles of dust (Like what the floor of the arena is made of) to hit each other, and with enough hits, it can cause lightning. And of course, hot air conducts electricity better than cold air. Blaec's swords are on _fire_ , and the material they're made of (for Nightfall at least) conducts electricity very well. Yeah, making scientific reasons for people doing cool stuff is difficult, but it's better than Deus Ex Machina. Also, because it's not magic, Blaec's enchantments are rendered kinda useless. Take that, magic!  
Also, that "white-hilted sword" Blaec was reminded of? It's Dyrnwyn, one of the Thirteen Treasures of the Island of Britain. All myths (read: gods and various artifacts of legends) are true in Danmachi. Granted, he was told about it as a child: Legendary weapons are _not_ common among the general public.**

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